Bulldozed
by Lord Axxingtons
Summary: From a kink meme prompt: Bull knows what the Inquisition needs, and one by one, he gives it to them. All of them. [Bull/everyone eventually, enthusiastic consent.]
1. Chapter 1

**Original prompt: ****'Iron Bull wants to make sure that his friends in the inquisition are well taken care of, so he works his way through them, one by one, giving them what they need.**

**Which characters he involves himself with and what kinks they have are up to the A!A. Any kinks other than non-con and watersports/scat are fine with me. I have a slight preference for m!Cadash or m!Adaar for the Inquisitor, but if you prefer one of the others that's cool.**

**I really just want to see the Iron Bull working his magic on as many of the Inquisition members as possible :D '**

**I ended up using my Inquisitor, M!Lavellan, because I found it hard to picture another one, hope that's OK.**

**Thanks so much to my spouse RoastedWolf for their help and encouragement in writing this!**

**Lavellan: light bondage.**

"There we go. No Inquisition. No war. Nothing outside this room. Just you... and me."

"And..." Lavellan coughs. "Oh, wait. We're not mentioning that. Yes. I remember. You and me."

He reaches up to stroke Iron Bull's face instead. The door to his quarters is firmly locked, and they're almost alone.

The Inquisitor and the Bull have been playing this game long enough to know the rules by now. It's an open-ended relationship; something that suits both of them well, but it _is _a relationship. They give each other what they need.

Lavellan lies back idly, resting his head onto Bull's broad chest, held secure in the crook of the Qunari's arms. "I thought Josephine and Cullen would never stop bickering today at the war table. It's always the same argument; I wish they'd realise that. Headache like a pounding from a giant by the end of it."

"I'd pound you like a giant," Bull supplies, earning a slap on the belly from the elf, who struggles to hold in his laughter nonetheless. "But seriously, did you make that elfroot tea I told you about? You shouldn't let headaches fester."

"You're such a mother," Lavellan grumbles. "Yes, and Krem already asked me the same thing. You two are like a married couple. But enough of that."

He rolls over onto his stomach, now lying entirely on top of Bull's broad body. Bull gives a soft grin to his slender Inquisitor. "Just you and me," he repeats softly.

"Help me forget about today?"

Bull smiles. He can't say no to that face.

"The watchword is still 'Katoh', unless you want to change it," he reminds Lavellan, reaching under the bed for the bundle of soft rope – more like cloth – that they use for these moments.

"Mythal's breath, I know what the watchword is by now!" the elf complains, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"Better safe than sorry."

"I _am_ safe. Now stop being so nice to me." Lavellan smiles. Bull gets back onto the bed, and complies.

Climbing onto Lavellan carefully and pinning down the Inquisitor's thighs with his knees, Bull looms over the elf with a grunt and grabs his arms, smoothly tying them to the headboard. Lavellan shivers with anticipation, letting Bull be the one to ply his limbs from move to move, like a puppet. Here in this room, he has no say (unless he really wants to). He's acted upon. He's done to.

Bull parts the Inquisitor's legs with casual ease, pawing the elf's crotch through the material, earning an undignified whine. Taking his time, with a grin, he leisurely unbuttons Lavellan's shirt, large fingers pausing to linger on a nipple before moving down to rest on the seam of the Inquisitor's breeches.

"Bull, please." Lavellan huffs. Bull looks up.

"The proud Inquisitor, come undone. Who knew it was this easy?" he chuckles low. The elf's face is flushed, whole body taut and straining up with wanting, held back by his arms locked tight to the headboard and Bull's massive legs pinning down his lower body.

"Just... come on." Lavellan fights his dignity, trying not to throw his head back or make any embarrassing noises, but he's not sure how much teasing he can take, and he's fully hard now against his breeches.

"I don't know what you're asking for. And it doesn't look like you can move very much. Perhaps I'll take all the time in the world," says Bull, cutely, kissing him once.

Lavellan's teeth snap at him like a vice, catching Bull's pointed nose. The Qunari tears away and rubs indignantly at the offended schnoz. "That wasn't very nice!"

"Just fuck me already, would you?"

"Well, if you're going to be so rude about it, maybe I should teach you a lesson about who's in charge here."

The Bull's voice has become a low, serious rumble now, and he lowers his head to Lavellan's midriff, taking the rim of his breeches in his teeth and tugging them down the elf's legs expertly.

Laying small kisses up the Inquisitor's pale legs, he considers teasing Lavellan a little more with some oral edging, but decides against it – he doesn't think either of them can wait any longer, and is becoming increasingly aware of the straining hardness in his own breeches. Sitting up and taking his length out, he sees Lavellan groan with relief and throw his head back.

"Finally!"

"Wait your turn. You need preparation." Bull turns away and reaches for the jar of oil next to the bed.

"Nooo, I don't," Lavellan argues rather weakly.

"I am not being held responsible for hospitalising the Inquisitor. Cass would flay me alive. Your delicate elvhen frame needs warming up." So saying, he worms a slicked finger up the Inquisitor's cleft and, eliciting a small gasp, works it into his entrance.

"Do not bring Cassandra into this scenario right now. The only thing on my mind is your cock, and it's creating a somewhat strange mental image." Lavellan mutters, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, as Bull adds another finger. Then his eyes open, annoyed. "And I am not delicate."

"Really?" Bull smirks. "Then I suppose you can take this without flinching?" He removes both fingers, then sticks them in again, hard.

The Inquisitor squeaks, bound hands clenching into fists. It's very sweet.

Bull lifts himself up and smoothly moves closer in, holding Lavellan by the hips and guiding himself in slowly. He allows himself a slow hiss of pleasure, one echoed by Lavellan, whose body opens up to him like a well-oiled machine. ...Though, well-oiled is pretty accurate. Bull laughs.

"Don't laugh at me," the elf mumbles, chin tucked into his chest, watching Bull with wide green eyes, then closing them again and gasping as Bull begins moving in earnest without a word.

They create a familiar, pleasurable friction as he slides his thick member in and out, pace gradually increasing, the only sounds in the room being hot, heavy breathing and the slick of bodies against each other. No words are needed right now, as Lavellan simply lies, takes what he's given, and enjoys it.

Finally, Bull gasps his release and pulls out, spilling onto Lavellan's stomach just in time. "Ahhh. Andraste's sacred balls, that was good." Then he looks down. "Oh, shit. Sorry. I've neglected you."

"Untie me and I'll finish myself off," Lavellan suggests breathlessly.

"Is that a Katoh 'untie me' or a Lavellan-being-stubborn 'untie me'? Because unless it's the former, you should let me take care of you."

"Okay," the Inquisitor agrees. "If you – ah! - insist." Before he can finish agreeing, Bull's warm hand comes down on his aching, untouched cock and slowly, steadily, pumps him to completion, no sound but their mixing warm breath by the bedside.

Bull stands up, stretching comfortably. "Well, I'd better get you a towel."

"Put some clothes on first," Lavellan reminds him hastily, watching the Qunari walk about the room jauntily with a smile. "We don't want a repeat of last time. I think Cullen's seen enough of you naked for a lifetime. The poor man keeps coughing awkwardly around me."

"Oh, he doesn't know what he's missing," Bull laughs, shrugging on his clownish breeches, and making for the door, before a small 'ahem' interrupts him.

"Still tied up over here?"

"Shit. Forget my own horns next." Bull hurries over and releases Lavellan's wrists, massaging them gently and sitting the elf up.

Lavellan grabs the horns in question and steers the Qunari towards him, smiling into Bull's mouth as they share a warm kiss.

"Thank you," he whispers. "I really needed that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Solas: voyuerism.**

**Sera: shits n giggles. (This is a very unsexy chapter, I apologise. I can't take the egg seriously, and I wanted to include Sera without delegitimising her sexuality. Hence this.)**

Solas's face is neutral and unreadable as Bull hands him the key. He only asks "You're sure this arrangement is agreeable to the Inquisitor and yourself?"

"Oh, yes, don't worry. We've discussed it." Bull attempts to grin reassuringly. This situation can only be described as... weird. "And, ah... you're really sure you'd rather not be involved? Or mentioned? At all?"

"Absolutely. Do not worry. And thank you both for indulging my... curiosity." The elf gives a faint, odd smile.

Yeah. Weird.

Bull pats Solas on the head and strolls off to have a pint, waiting for Lavellan to get out of that war meeting.

Solas lets himself into the Inquisitor's quarters. Illustrious, as he'd expected. And quiet. Very quiet. The bed is perfectly made. He walks over to it and runs a finger along the silken sheets, lost in thought.

He didn't need to request this, not really. There are more dignified ways he could easily have found to satiate his interest. And honestly, the entire thing is a fool's errand. A distraction.

Still... There's a rarely-felt flutter of some sort of thrill in Solas's chest.

They agreed upon the terms beforehand. The Inquisitor and Iron Bull will engage in one of their usual trysts. ...And from the balcony, unseen, Solas will watch.

He has to admit, he's glad that they talked about it, if mainly because being discovered _secretly_ spying on the Inquisitor's sex life would be a shame he'd never live down. And he'd known the Iron Bull was an... open man, but this is even more accommodating than he'd expected.

He can't fathom how in Thedas Bull managed to work out that this might be what he wanted.

They'd been inside the tavern – Solas doesn't drink, of course, but spending time with the inebriated can provide you with some fascinating insights into the lives of others – and Bull, now obviously quite plastered, had clapped him on the shoulder and asked Solas if he had anyone special back home. (There was an implicit question there, too, about where home was, which he was able to sidestep.) Solas had replied in the negative, fabricating some half-formed story about a Dalish girl with eyes like limpid pools, but he thinks Bull could tell even through his drunkenness that it was all irrelevance. Love with others, sex with others – it's sticky, messy, complicated. And he is interested, as so many mortals are, but the interest is something personal, not something he wants others involved in, just like his Fade research.

And, well, there's only so many copies of _Swords and Shields_ one can peruse before a certain curiosity ebbs up.

It was the Iron Bull's proposal. Solas would never suggest something so vulgar. He'd been content to just sit there nodding stiffly while Bull went on a raunchy anecdote about his latest conquest with the Inquisitor. But when the words "Do you wanna watch next time?" left the Qunari's mouth, Solas didn't quite find himself saying no.

So there he is. Quietly opening the window onto the high balcony, Solas takes pause to admire the brisk air and the mountain view from the Inquisitor's quarters. Truly magnificent.

Then he turns around, pulls the curtains until only a slit remains, closes the window, and crouches down, waiting, breath heavy.

Sera's not interested in boys. She's really, really not.

But, well, Inky's a little slip of a thing, ain't he? Almost like a girl from certain views. Too elfy by far, but then, she's not the one giving him the business, having to deal with all that crap, is she? She laughs to herself, and continues climbing.

Her nails are run ragged, but that's always so. Crawling round the walls of Skyhold to get to the balcony of the Inquisitor's chambers is one of those games that seemed funner when she thought of it, not in practise. And, to be honest, this isn't all for pranks and laughs. It's not like with the lizards... She stops to laugh again, then remembers to hold on to the wall. Lizards! That was a great one. But no, she's not planning to release earwigs into his room, or anything. She just... Well, the big brute was telling the entire tavern last night about their weird sex, not that anyone asked, thank you. And now she's curious, okay? Just curious.

It's bloody cold and dark up here, and with some relief, she realises she's almost climbed to the balcony in question – and all without being spotted by whatchamaface, Curly, grumpy one with the lion thingy. ...Or falling and splatted like a bug down on the ground. No. Best not to think of that. Nearly there.

Someone's breathing.

It gives her pause, because she's not, like, one of those special sneaky assassin types, she's just ordinary. So if she can hear someone breathing from here, it means they're doing it really heavily.

Do those cheeky bastards diddle with the window open?

Oh, she can't wait to see this.

"_And I am not delicate."_

"_Really? Then I suppose you can take this without flinching?"_

Solas can hardly see inside – only shapes, really – but it doesn't matter. The talk, the musk of sex emanating, the shadowed silhouettes; it allows him to fill in the more crude, anatomical gaps with his imagination.

He doesn't look down as he strokes himself. Hasn't undressed – can you imagine the vulgarity! It may be dark outside, but still, there are standards – but has both hands stiffly thrust inside his robes, palming his cock in a crude, distracted manner as he peers at Bull's massive form mounting the tiny Inquisitor.

He imagines himself, briefly, in both roles. The elf is easier to project into, of course, but Solas isn't that small and breakable, and the thought of being laid down and taken himself doesn't quite sit comfortably. Being the Qunari is a strange thought. That power in one's body, enough to straddle and conquer anything one chooses – but how indelicate, how unpleasant. No, this is not him; he is not part of this. This is them. He's not even here.

Iron Bull pushes his cock into Lavellan, and Solas's grip tightens around his own member, tugging faster now, breath lapsing into quick huffs. Lavellan's moans are only just getting started, but Solas is so close. He's almost – he's – there.  
He spills his seed inside his robes, then pulls up the breeches, wiping his hand distastefully on the inside of his sleeve. Disgusting. He'll have to remember to wash th—

"Droopy-ears!"

Solas does not screech. He... cries out in a high-pitched manner.

"Sera!" he hisses, frantic, aware of his blush, as the elven girl perches on the edge of the balcony, looking absolutely delighted at this find. "What in Thedas are you—"

"Same as you, I reckon," she says cheerfully.

"Lower your voice!"

"I think they're plenty distracted. Never had you pegged for a peeper, Baldy, but I can sort of see it now. Well, I can definitely see it now, har – small blessing I didn't catch you with your todger out, eh? Old lech." She elbows him, guffawing. Solas lowers his head. She can never know how close she really came.

"I was simply," he says quietly, "Observing the – the daily rituals of our leader, and I – I caught him at an inopportune time, so I waited out here to give them some privacy—"

"Yeah, I get it," she interrupts. "Then you thought"; she now puts on a low, droning voice for him: "'May as well have a little spy! Tug tug tug, wank wank wank! Ooh, Inky, I wish you was choking on my—!' anyway. Or is it the Bull you prefer? Got to admit, he's got the tits, and I am a _little_ curious how big that thing really is. Shove off." Sera pushes Solas out of the way and eagerly peers through the curtain gap.

"Can't see a bloody thing," she complains. "Rubbish spot. Oh, wow, though, he really is tied to the bedpost! I better not let Varric know or I'll owe him a sovereign."

"Varric will not be hearing of this encounter, nor anyone else," Solas states through his teeth. "We will never speak of this day again, and... Well, what are you doing up here, anyway?" It occurs to him.

Sera looks slightly avoidant, then grins and begins cheerfully lying. "I love to climb walls. I do it all day. Never seen me up on a wall like a goat? Probably had your nose in a book then. I'm a climber. Ask anyone."

He has a feeling the real answer might be somewhat similar to his own.

Sera presses her eye to the window again. "Ooh, I think that's them done. You missed it, Droopy! And – oh – he's standing up, come look, he's standing up—"

"I am _not_ going to look—"

"Andraste's tits! I was right. That thing'd rupture your organs. Euuuch." She spits, then turns to him. "Well that's my curiosity satisfied. So, Baldy, you a one for climbing, or shall we wait it out here, you and me, 'til they leave? We can have a natter, go on."

The things Solas has to endure for the sake of this Inquisition.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cassandra: femdom, rough.**

"Argh!"

Bull braces himself for the blow.

It doesn't come. He looks around and sees Cassandra still poised, wooden sword in air, usual grimace on her face stuck as if she has suddenly frozen. She breathes hard, then brings it down weakly on his side, dropping the sword with a clatter.

"Something the matter?" Bull asks.

She turns around and rubs the back of her neck, stretching. "No. I... Forgive me. I am distracted."

She's hard on herself like that, isn't she? 'Forgive me'. What's to be forgiven? But he has to tread carefully. Patronise her, and he'll earn a real walloping.

"You work yourself too hard, Seeker," Bull suggests. "Relax. Have a drink." Now there's a mental image – Pentaghast plastered. The look her eyebrows are giving him right now tells him it's not something he'll live to see.

"There is always work to be done," she says, quietly. Pauses, as if exhausted, and then raises the sword again and slashes the training mannequin fiercely, straw bursting out of it as she pants. She looks tired. She looks unhappy.

"Seriously, Cass. We all appreciate how hard you train. But you can take an afternoon off. ...And if you need some relaxation, well-" -Bull shrugs massively- "-I'm here."

She eyes him. "You can't be serious."

"I am." He faces her, square. "You know I'm game for anything, Cass."

"You assume I'm 'game'." Her face is stone.

"I don't assume, I ask."

"And the Inquisitor—"

"We have an open relationship."

Cassandra closes her eyes and opens them again after a very long pause, rubbing her forehead. She exhales, picks up the training sword and strides past him, leaving Bull assuming that's a no. Well, at least he offered.

But then her mouth opens as she passes him and a hiss comes out. "_Varric must never know about this_."

He lights torches, gets a gentle fire crackling and draws across the curtain, leaving a low light. He lights a stick of dawn lotus, filling the room with a sweet, pleasant aroma. Plumping up the pillow on his bed, Bull looks around, pleased with his work. Well, even if Cassandra changes her mind, he's sure the serving girl with the tired eyes and the bright smile wouldn't object to this treatment. Just as he's thinking of heading down to the kitchens to look her up, the door slams open.

Cassandra powers her way into the room and looks around, assessing it all at once with a strategist's eye. She's dressed, he notices, in a light, straw-coloured tunic, and warm shadows from the fire glance off her pink legs, her small body. She looks... gentle, almost, if not for that severe brow.

"I see you've made an effort," she says, almost with distaste.

"I like to make my guests feel welcome," Bull replies.

"I had rather expected a bale of straw and a jar of oil."

"Well, I can get that if you'd prefer," he says, amused, "But we're not animals."

"No, I did not mean—" She looks somewhat lost. Bull wonders, for all her glory and her nobility, how many times Seeker Cassandra has done this, opened herself up to someone. "-That is to say, I appreciate the gesture."

He gestures to the bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

She pads to the bed, sits on it, draws herself up. She doesn't look... sure.

"Hey," he iterates, "If you'd rather not, Cass, that's fine. Or if you just want a massage. I'm great with two hands." He winks. She gives a coarse, short laugh at that, then looks at him with a question in her eyes.

"What if I were to ask— No, it's..."

"Go on. I don't judge, believe me." He sits down on the other side of the bed, his broad back bare against her slender one.

"The... the mannequin isn't enough sometimes. Do you ever just want to – just _inflict_?"

Bull... doesn't, particularly. But he can see what she means, and he can see it in her all too clearly. What an ass he's been, with the torches and the firelight and the incense! This is Cassandra he's talking about.

"Right," he replies steadily, standing up. "I think I have a rod somewhere under here. Or you prefer a whip?" Maker, he's going to hurt in the morning. But it's worth it.

She looks confounded. "What?"

"I... I thought you said you wanted to inflict. Or do you just wanna give me a slap around? I can work with that." He'd draw the line at her sword, though.

She looks baffled. "I assume I don't want to know what your usual depravities involve. No, Iron Bull, that is not what I meant."

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Then, uh... what?"

She turns over on the bed and looks him straight in the eyes. Maker, those brows could kill a man.

"I want to _fuck_."

She wasn't kidding. She pushes him down by the chest and grabs his cock the same way she grabs the hilt of a weapon, drawing him hard in a vicious few pulls, as he lies breathless underneath.

"I've only had a man once before – a mage," she explains rapidly, pulling up her tunic to expose round, dark, pert breasts. "He was a good man. I loved him. But the sex – he was too soft and kept trying to _hold_ me. Men! They're not even good at what they're good for." She makes a disgusted noise.

Bull nods in agreement and reaches a hand up to help her with her tunic. Cassandra smacks it away. He lies and waits as she becomes naked, the soft hair of her body settling on his stomach, her warmth touching him, making him bone-achingly erect. He's desperate to move, but not quite as desperate as he is to keep being put down by her.

"Do you think I am soft, Iron Bull? You're a big man; do you think I need protecting?"

"No, Seeker," he replies honestly, assuming that's what she wants to hear, aching to touch her.

Apparently, it isn't what she wanted. She purses her lips. "I said, do I look like I need protecting?"

"Uh, yes?" Bull tries.

"You are _wrong_." A smirk. "I will teach you."

Then she lifts her hips and sinks down onto his cock with one fluid motion, making him see stars for a moment. His hands move, involuntarily, to her breasts, and are pushed away by her roughly in kind. She pins him and he's left motionless as a doll as she rides him, bucking hard, with the same grip and control as she rides her horse. There are no more words as she pushes herself to the brink, sweating, nails digging into his chest.

"Aah!" It's not a small sound, not a whimper, but a snarl he swears he heard when she beheaded the high dragon in the battlefield. Fingernails rip down his chest, making him wince, as Cassandra's eyes squeeze shut, mouth thrown open, her orgasm overcoming her. Her whole body is heaving. She looks... amazing.

Bull's ready to come, but then she's gone. He blinks. She's pulled away from him and sat up, breathing fast. "Oh," she says, "Oh, Maker."

"Feel better?" He rolls over and leans onto an elbow, still hard as a rock, smiling at her.

"Immeasurably." Cassandra closes her eyes. He can't see any lines in her face any more. Her chest moves up and down in slow breaths, then she lifts off the bed and puts her tunic back on. "Well, I cannot stay. I promised Leliana I'd hear her reports about the situation in the Approach before sundown. I will see you tomorrow, Iron Bull." She looks briefly at him and smiles. It's genuine, and warm. "Thank you. That was highly satisfactory."

Then she is gone, and Bull's alone, own climax still incomplete. The thought of that last look on her face, though, should be plenty sufficient, as he draws the covers up and hopes the Chargers don't need him tonight.


End file.
